


On the Essence of Family

by Ash_Cassidy97



Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: Found Family, Gen, I feel like that tag is just included in his character but oh well, Past Child Abuse, Protective Booth, Team as Family, again why is that not a tag?, season 4 episode 20: Mayhem on a Cross, working through issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 12:46:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17447273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ash_Cassidy97/pseuds/Ash_Cassidy97
Summary: The first time Booth sits down before Sweets, he does his best to physically intimidate the kid. He’s not proud of it but Sweets has power in this room and Bones is right there. She’s tough but people have broken her down enough, dissected her emotions and tried to put them in a box.He’s seen enough of that evidence, enough to be ready to intimidate some kid to keep her safe. It makes him a little sick of himself, but well, he’s strong. He can handle that, he tells himself.“And it’s working,” Sweets will tell him because he believes in telling patients when they’re succeeding in what they’re trying to do. He tells him because Lance had spent years teaching himself to be vulnerable here, to make this room a safe zone. And it only takes him a second to spot Booth’s almost imperceptible wince, and how Booth’s twitching in front of Brenen. He can’t ask somebody to be open when he can’t, so he peels a layer off and tells Booth that it’s working, that Booth can make him nervous.





	On the Essence of Family

The first time Booth sits down before Sweets, he does his best to physically intimidate the kid. He’s not proud of it but Sweets has power in this room and Bones is right  _ there _ . She’s tough but people have broken her down enough, dissected her emotions and tried to put them in a box.

 

He’s seen enough of that evidence, enough to be ready to intimidate some  _ kid _ to keep her safe. It makes him a little sick of himself, but well, he’s strong. He can handle that, he tells himself.

 

“And it’s working,” Sweets will tell him because he believes in telling patients when they’re succeeding in what they’re trying to do. He tells him because Lance had spent years teaching himself to be vulnerable here, to  _ make _ this room a safe zone. And it only takes him a second to spot Booth’s almost imperceptible wince, and how Booth’s twitching in front of Brenen. He can’t ask somebody to be open when he can’t, so he peels a layer off and tells Booth that it’s working, that Booth can make him nervous.

 

The FBI gives him shattered people who’ve been propping each other up for years. It’s a little like giving a handgun to a child. Lance only hopes he only shoots himself in the foot, and not somebody innocent. Well. He’s always been one for touching wet paint.

 

So he tries to make himself less of a threat, to not rise to when Booth needs to push at him. He does his best to not rise to Brenen throwing out his phycology and pushing her science at him like it’s gospel. And to her, it is, and Lance vows to respect that, doesn’t have to think twice about that.

 

And Booth keeps mocking him, getting Brenen in on it, always pushing at him, using cellphones in sessions and laughing about his age. Lance is extremely careful to lightly protest these things, but not actively work to stop them. It’s hardly the first time clients have acted out, and just wants a semblance of power back so he can adequately protect his partner. It hasn’t escaped him that Brenen wants the same thing for Booth.

 

“Tell me Parker will be okay,” Booth demanded, but he’s defensive and skittish.

 

“Booth, you’re a good father. He’ll be okay.”

 

Booth forces him to the gun range. Well, forces.  “I’ll tell you about my hallucination with Lucky Lue if you work with me three times a week at the gun range and gym.” Maybe it’s the other way round.

 

“Deal.” Lance doesn't hesitate.

 

“He said I’m nothing like my father.”

 

“What do you think?”

 

“You said I’m man of violence.”

 

“I was wrong.” Once again, there’s no hesitance in Lance.

 

“You admit being wrong, Sweets?”

 

“Yes. Do you think I’m wrong.”

 

“You have all the fancy degrees.” Lance blinks. Booth has  _ never _ endorsed his degrees.

 

“You’re angry but you turn it inward and use it to hold yourself accountable for protecting the people you care about, like Dr. Brennan. Come on, that’s enough therapy for today.”

 

Booth takes him the gun range. He’s patient with him. Sweets got pushed through on his brains alone at Quantico, and it shows. It also shows that Sweets is still stiff around him when he’s uncomfortable. Booth can read abuse on him as clear as blood stains at a crime scene, but he leaves it alone.

 

And the whole dress thing with Daisy happens. And Lance goes to Booth, sits in a chair across from him in a mockery of their therapy sessions. “If you were your own patient, what advice would you give yourself?” It’s a very annoying question. And they both get the joke, and Booth won’t hug him because Sweets doesn’t handle people coming into his space well, but Booth punches him in the arm nonetheless.

 

Through all of it, Lance isn’t mad at Brenen. She told him the facts, which is something she’s incapable of not doing. Secretly, he’s a little bit pleased. She wouldn’t feel the same compulsions with people she doesn’t at least feel friendly toward. And he learns that Daisy is faithful.

 

Gordon offers criticism on Sweets’ book, and well, tells him everything is wrong. Sweets 100% still listens to death metal. One day, Booth’s gonna sit him down and teach him how to lie well. One day, Sweets is gonna do his best to explain that he’s a terrible liar around people he trusts.

 

Sweets shows up with face makeup and Sweets loses his shirt. Brennan distractedly notes the scars on his back, criss-crossing across his scapula. Lance isn’t particularly bothered by it, or well, he tries not to be.

 

He went through Quantico with group changing rooms with people who fancied they were going to be profilors. But that’s not-that’s not  _ these _ people, that’s not  _ family _ . He’s never done it around new people, the uninitiated who give a damn about him. He’s never done it around people who aren’t going to use it to actively hurt him, and that’s a new thing. It’s an uncomfortable thing.

 

Booth pushes Bones to act with rage, directing her, and yet she does a damn good impression of Booth on her own. She’s a little bit scary. Lance is back in a suit.

 

Gordon writes Booth as fit for duty. Gordon diagnosis Sweets. Bones tells them about Sweets’ scars. Booth hadn’t known the abuse had been that physical. He’s not particularly surprised.

 

He doesn’t know how to approach Sweets. Some wounds should be punctured, drained, re-wrapped, but Booth knows he is the last one to know when to leave things alone and when to break out a scalpel. Even Bones doesn’t try to talk to Sweet about it.

 

And anyway, some things don’t need to be said to be understood.

 

And Booth pokes fun at Sweets’ taste in music because he knows what it’s like to have people treat you differently.

 

Gordon on the other hand, is a shrink at heart. He compliments Sweets on his good progress. Sweets mostly keeps a blank face. Gordon tells Lance that he has a truly good heart, that be believes people can be saved by good people. There’s a reason Daisy calls him Lancealot. And Gordon steps back, letting Lance slowly piece his guard back up.

 

Gordon cooks them all food.  “Might I offer you a word of advice regarding Dr. Sweets?”

“Might we try to stop you?” Booth responds back.

“Why do we need advice about Sweets?”

“We don’t. Sweets is just fine.” And he is to Booth. Sweets is a kid and Booth has already felt that sinking gut feeling that means he’s gonna do his best to keep the kid out of the line of fire. Sweets doesn’t need somebody else to push in on him.

“He most definitely is not fine. I’ve read his book.” Sometimes, Gordon forgets he’s dealing with shattered people.

“What? Does he say something mean about us?” Brennan asks, because she’s been dissected before, had people lay out all her faults.

“On the contrary. You might as well know that . . . he lost both his adoptive parents just before he came to work  . . . for your de facto crime-fighting unit.”

“Geez, what are we, the Land of Misfit Toys?” Booth sighs.

“He’s a good lad, Sweets, but this book he’s writing, he’s using it as the vehicle to get what he actually wants, which is  . . . a family.”

“So, he imprinted on us, like a baby duck?” Brennan clarifies. Gordon laughs. “So what do we do?”

“Nothing. Okay? Sweets is not a baby duck.” He can’t dislike that Sweets is doing what he did. He found a family through Bones as well. Who is he to mess that up for Sweets?

“He wants what we all want. He wants to find out his place in the world.”

“We can find a permanent place for him, right?” She asks it to Booth because she’s been abandoned before, moved between places with a trash bag for her belongings, and Booth is home to her.

Booth crunches his food, and looks at Gordon. He tries not to think about how Parker asked him last week if they could find a place for the stray cat. He tries not think about how he puts out cat food for said cat. He groans. “Gordon-Gordon is gonna want us to divulge or share or bond or something awful.”

“Look. Perhaps you might just show the lad . . . that he’s not the only one with scars on his back.” It’s a good point. It’s more than a good point. Sweets is family, and he damn well deserves to know that they have his back.

“But he is,” Brennan objects. Gordon raises his eyebrows. “Too literal?”

“By the way, what I’m making here is the masterpiece that got me accepted into the Culinary Institute, all right? But it doesn’t keep. So, uh, be back in an hour, yeah?”

“Let’s go.”

“But where are we going?”

“Duck hunting. Come on.”

“Not literally,” she says, checking. “Right?”

“Come on. Quack-quack.” They leave Gordon to the pot.

 

They find Lance in his office, hunched over his book. “Sweets?” Bones asks. “Hi.”

“What are you doing here?” he asks, not trying to be rude but well it is 9pm.

“Well, uh, Gordon-Gordon is making dinner for us at my place, uh, family style. And, um, you’re invited.” Yeah, it feels almost exactly like the cat.

“Thank you. But I’ve actually got a lot of work here, and-”

“My foster parents locked me in the trunk of a car for two days when I broke a dish. I was a very clumsy child. They warned me it would happen.” The others know damn well that Brennan doesn’t have a clumsy bone in her body, and that the lie is borne of social workers and ER rooms. “But the water was so hot and the soap was so slippery. I still don’t think it was fair, even though they gave me fair warning.” She looks at Booth, wanting confirmation, needing somebody to tell her that she’s right-that- Her voice cracks because he has kind eyes that- “The water was so hot-”

“No. It wasn’t fair at all. It wasn’t your fault,” Sweets tells her gently.

“Bones,” Booth whispers. “What are you doing?”

“You said that ‘scars on the back’ was a metaphor. Isn’t that why we’re here to metaphorically compare scars?”

“I came to bring Sweets back to my place for dinner. That’s all.” He remembers the cat hissing at him, swiping with claws out. He’s not gonna let Sweets hide away. Nobody should be alone after-he came to drag Sweets to dinner. He hands Bones a handkerchief and does his best to fight the impulse to wrap her up, because she peeled herself open to try to comfort Sweets. She’s so damn recklessly brave sometimes.

“‘Scars on the back’?” Sweets has to ask. He still hasn’t gotten up, hasn’t moved toward them. 

“I saw them, Sweets.”

“So . . . what?” He asks, finally getting up, stepping toward them. “You decided to just share something from your past?” He gets up because this more than deserves his acknowledgement, his approval. “That is so unlike you.” And yeah, Lance knows he could’ve shut down, could’ve gotten mad at her for telling Booth, but that was a given. He’s spent too long working to be open, to make this a safe space for them to shut them down.

“I still hate psychology. Okay,” she says. “Your turn. Go,” she tells Booth.

“I came here to bring Sweets back to my place for dinner. That’s all.” Bones tilts her head and just  _ looks _ at him, because he’s the bravest man she knows and Booth doesn’t back away from family. “Okay. If it wasn’t for my grandfather, I probably would’ve killed myself when I was a kid.” He directs his words at Bones, and turns back to almost snarl at Lance, “Okay, that’s all I’m gonna say on the subject matter. Understand? Are you okay, Bones?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Here.” She tucks his handkerchief back into his coat. “Why are you nodding?”

“Nothing. Just . . . Wyatt made an observation about you two. And I think I just saw what he saw.”

“You coming?” Booth asks shortly. He’s had enough mind talk for the night.

“Booth means that we’d like it if you joined us.”

“Thank you.”

“Great. Here we go. Let’s go.” They practically frog-march him out of there. He’s happy to go. Booth keeps the alcohol in the cupboard. Gordon was smart enough to stash it away while they’re gone. It doesn’t give Booth a handy excuse to force Lance to stay over.

 

“I’m making up the couch,” he tells Sweets. The kid blinks. Gordon and Bones are in the other room. He knows to give him time enough to process the order.

“Hey, that’s not necessary.” He processes it faster than Booth gives him credit for.

“It’s 10pm at night. I’m not letting you drive back. It’s halfway across town.”

“It’s thirty minutes, Booth.”

“You’re sleeping on the couch. That’s final.” Exactly like the cat.

Sweets stares at him with a focused look on his face before clearly giving up. “I’m humoring you.”

“You just humor on away then.”

 

Bones touches his arm before she leaves, following Gordon out. “You okay?”

“Yeah. We’re just gonna watch some cartoons and go to bed. Same old, same old.”

 

He scooches his weight next to Lance and puts  _ Die Hard  _ on. He waits until Lance is almost relaxed before saying, “Glass hurts when you step on it like that.” It’s not a trigger anymore, this movie. It used to be. Now, the movie is a comfort, but he still hates that scene.

 

“Walk on glass often?” Lance asks carefully. Who Dares Wins. He keeps his eyes fixed on the screen.

 

“Only when my old man was drinking.” Which meant all the time. The scars have faded. Only Bones would be able to pick them out now, amid all the bone breaking torture leftovers.

 

“You’re a good man, Booth, and a good father.”

 

Booth waits for the credits to roll before laying out blankets on the couch. He practically tucks Lance in.

 

“You know you’re family, right, Sweets?” Booth says, because Bones might not be able to say it, and the kid might need to hear it. And when the hell did he become the most emotionally developed of them all? He’s not surprised but just when?

 

“I-thank you, Booth.”

 

“Anytime, Sweets.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Wanted this to be a little longer, but I spent six months staring at it so here we are. If you want more, tell me and it might, might, happen.


End file.
